


Call Me That One More Time...

by vivilove



Series: Dialogue/Tumblr Prompts [12]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But she's already captured his heart so there, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Jon has captured Lady Sansa, Salty Teens, Tumblr Prompt, Well they're not lovers yet, Wildling Jon Snow, but we know they'd get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Jon had gone south the treat with the kneelers on Mance's orders but, when he finds himself in a sticky situation, he kidnaps Lady Sansa Stark to make his escape.  He's beginning to wonder if that was very wise of him and who is actually the captive here.





	Call Me That One More Time...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dena1984](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dena1984/gifts).

> A belated birthday gift for Dena and also a response to her dialogue prompt on Tumblr 'Call me that one more time, see what happens.' And also, I had a sweet anon on Tumblr asking for some Wildling Jon :)

“Watch your head, princess!” Jon tells her just as the tree branch slips from his fingers.

“Call me that one more time, see what happens!” she shouts, barely managing to duck in time.

He does his best not to chuckle at the sight of her with sprigs of pine in her pretty red hair and her cheeks reddened with anger. He fails. Her shouting will do neither of them any good, no more than his laughter will. But once he’d tried out that particular pet name on her and she’d told him she despised it, he couldn’t seem to help himself from sticking with it.

Honestly, she seems a princess to him though in her fine silk dress and soft woolen cloak with fur trim but for some reason she hates it. She hates him, too. He should probably feel the same about her. She’s brought him nothing but trouble from the moment he stole her.

_Well, I haven’t truly stolen her._

He doesn’t hate her though. And, he’d dearly like to make her his but he’s not forcing himself on some kneeler’s maiden daughter no matter how beautiful she is…and no matter how bickering with her stirs him.

When Mance had sent him south to treat with the southerners, he’d known it was a dangerous mission. He’d secretly swelled with pride to be chosen, even knowing several of the raiders and spear wives thought him too young and too green for such a task.

_“You’re suited to this in a way none of them are,”_ Mance had told him though Jon wasn’t sure what he’d meant by that.

Now, he wonders if Mance will regret choosing him to go. Actually, there’s no need for wondering. He’s sure of it.

Stealing the girl had not been part of the plan. But when the party of crows and kneelers had turned sour on him, he’d needed a way out. A knife to the girl’s throat had got him past the guards they’d set on him while they’d been awaiting Lord Stark’s return.

Lady Sansa Stark had not been meant to attend the meeting no more than some of the kneelers present had planned to act in good faith towards Mance’s man. Mance should’ve known. Jon should’ve, too.

But the young man had come to parley and the girl had wanted a glimpse of a Wildling apparently. Jon wonders if she regrets it as much as he does. _Not that I really regret stealing her._

She’s caught on to him. She knows now that he’d never intended to use a knife on her, that he’d never really hurt her though he still says she’s his prisoner. He wonders who’s really the prisoner here. And the Thenns haven’t been friendly of late. They’re as far from safety for him as they are for her at present.

They come upon a cave with a hot spring at its entrance. “We’ll stop here tonight,” he tells his nominal prisoner. She grumbles about being hungry. “Ghost will hunt us something up for our meal.” She gives a reluctant nod. She likes Ghost. She prefers the direwolf to the Wildling, he thinks so he decides to needle her a bit as he turns back to face the cave. “Can’t have princess going hungry.”

“I warned you,” she says in a low and threatening voice.

He feels a mighty shove and then he’s gasping in shock. She’s pushed him right into the hot spring. Outraged, he climbs out of the water, his furs dripping wet.

Her girlish giggles end when he stalks towards her as menacingly as Ghost might stalk a deer. She looks half ashamed and half afraid but maybe something else. There’s a flash of something playful and testing in her eyes.

“I’m sorry but I warned you,” she says, clearing her throat.

He cracks a grin then to show he’s not really angry with her. “Aye, you did. I suppose I’ll have to let my things dry tonight by the fire.”

He heads into the cave but doesn’t miss how her mouth flies open to protest before quickly closing. Her cheeks are flushed by the time he’s started a fire and stripping out of the first layer of his sodden things. He has no shame in being bare but he’s heard how kneelers can be.

“You could have my cloak,” she says softly as he’s unlacing the skins covering his boots so he might remove his breeches next.

“I’ll be fine.” But she’s not. She’s trembling. He can’t have that so he stops unlacing and thinks up a question to distract her. “Why does it make you so cross when I call you princess?”

“I…” She removes her cloak, laying it on the rock between them, a peace offering perhaps. Her eyes are on the ground. “I’m supposed to marry Prince Joffrey. I thought I wanted to be his princess.”

“And you’re angry that you were stolen and afraid you’ll never see your kneeler prince again? Is that why it makes you angry?” He hates that. He doesn’t like thinking of this girl loving some perfumed southern prince in velvets.

“No. He’s…he’s awful really. I’ve been trying to get my father alone to tell him I wish for the betrothal to be broken but I never got the chance. I suppose you calling me princess reminds me of my circumstances.”

“Oh…well, I could call you something else then.”

“I’d like it if you’d just call me Sansa.”

“Sansa. I could do that. It’s a pretty name.” _Pretty name for a beautiful girl._

Her smile in reply is nothing short of radiant. Maybe they’ll pass this night in harmony. And, her laughter when he wears her cloak the rest of the night so as not to offend his princess while they eat their roasted hare is quite sweet.

_She can’t be some kneeler’s princess if I make her my princess instead._

The Free Folk have a king of sorts in Mance and Jon is as good as his son. That’d make her his princess, wouldn’t it? He wonders what Sansa might think of such a suggestion and decides to save that for another time. She’s just as likely to push him into a hot spring again when he does. He can’t say he’d mind when it comes to her.


End file.
